A walk in the park...
Every weekend there are 3 of us that meet up and walk the dogs together. None of the dogs particularly like each other, but they are all passionate about each others toys and dog treats, and like to swap ownership of parents for a couple of hours I load Barley & Homer into the car and we pick up Buster another lab (black one) on the way to the park (10 minutes in the car while they slobber all over the windows, scuff the paintwork and howl in my ears until we get there). Busters’ dad was part of the ‘saddo weekend walk ur dog in any crap weather' gang but had a stroke at the beginning of the year, so I inherited his duties while he slowly recovers The park is then a communal cesspit for the first 5 minutes while they seem to dump about 10 days food out between them. It takes about 20 Morrisons Supermarket carrier bags to pick up their delectable offerings (‘Just 1 more reason to shop at Morrisons….’ Although I don’t think this use of carrier bags was part of their marketing campaign)
He then goes pinging off on his extending lead (Homer, not Arthur, as I don’t think Arthur is in any state to ping anywhere now) – I still haven’t decided whether this piece of equipment is actually of any value to me, as it seems more like a tool for people particularly fond of dislocated shoulders. It is like fishing in a way, unfortunately I appear to have a ‘Great White’ on the end of my line and reeling him in is a nightmare Meet the gang members
SuzyHomer is pretty friendly with all the dogs in the group, apart from an initial fall out with Suzy (the only non-Labrador) who resembles a wart hog, but isn’t quite that attractive. They both have the same lovely type of temperament, which means they ripped each others heads off a couple of times but now seem to have an unspoken (unwoofed) agreement to totally avoid each other. 
Charmy
Next in the group is Charmy, a yellow lab. Charmy is obsessive about ‘Mr Squeaks’ (keep up here, Homers best friend in the world remember) and takes total ownership of him from the minute I get there. 
PoppyPoppy, another black lab, prances around resembling some kind of Reebok, she will then drop to the floor in an instant and proceed to snaffle along the ground on her belly as though she is a trained marine in pursuit of snipers 
BusterBuster usually gets out the car and rejoins us 2 hours later having circled the park 400 times, climbed Everest, had a wicked time White water rafting, and just started to feel a little bit tired now so decided to see where his lift home is (the dog is relentless he never slows down) The Rest
We also have honorary members (all labs) on a regular basis – Bonkers (black lab), Leo (yellow lab who started off as friendly a pup as you would find. He now seems to have loaned the same books from the Library as Homer did, and ‘How to be a Rottweiler’, 
Barley and Poppy usually have a great game of who can roll in the most fox shit, which always makes me and Poppy’s owner laugh (ha blummin ha) and usually means dunking them both in some part of the brook that is deep enough to try and soak the black tar like substance off.
Homer will always walk round the park with a substitute Mr Squeak in his mouth (he has about 10 of them and only 1 actually squeaks still – The dogs treat the one with the squeak like the Holy Grail, ownership is a real privilege) He then likes someone to kick it for him – no hand contact is allowed, as this makes him sulk and he will no longer let you play with Mr S. I am particularly fond of the journey home, as this is a repeat exercise of the journey there, but throw in 2 tonne of mud into the equation just to devalue my car even further. I find no need for air fresheners any more either, as eau de smelly brook overrides any smell that is in the car in an instant |
Homer then proceeds to pee all over ‘Arthur, a loving husband and lover of nature’ who has a plaque under the nearest tree. I don’t think Arthur realised he would be ‘at one with nature’ quite so literally
‘Labrador to pit bull terrier in 2 weeks’, and 'World Domination for Canines’ seem to be on his bestseller lists)
You are not allowed to actually kick Mr S past Homer, this isn’t in his rules either; he takes his goalkeeping duties very seriously. Because of his love (obsession) with winning the game, he has elected to let no one kick Mr S now other than Charmy’s owner. This gives him a bit of an unfair advantage as she has about 1% sight left in both eyes